The Duchess and Her New Life
by Brightbear
Summary: Robbers murder a Duchess and her husband. Hours later, the Duchess reawakens and comes back to life but what could cause such a thing?
1. Unpleasant Death

THE DUCHESS AND HER NEW LIFE (part one)  
  
Rating: PG-13 for violence and language Summary: Robbers murder a Duchess and her husband. Hours later, the Duchess reawakens and comes back to life but what could cause such a thing?  
Disclaimer: The Doctor Who universe belongs to the BBC and the various people who created it. I don't make any profit from using it. The Duchess and Edwald are my own creations.

* * *

The Duchess leant her head against her husband's shoulder. The smooth rocking of the carriage and the soft jingling of the harness was sending her to sleep. She was close enough to feel the vibrations of her husband's chest as he chuckled indulgently at her. Her own mouth curved into a grin but she was too sleepy to rebuke him aloud.  
  
"Driver?" whispered her husband. "If would please me greatly if you were to ride a little slower and to avoid the rocks. My wife is asleep and I would not have her wakened." The Duchess did not bother to open her eyes and correct her husband.  
"Of course, your Grace," replied the driver reluctantly.  
  
It was many hours travel back to the estate through the woods and the driver always wished to return home as soon as possible. However, the driver had been a loyal servant of the Duke's family for generations and she soon felt the carriage slowing slightly as the horses responded to his commands.  
  
They were half a mile from leaving the dirt track to return to the main road when disaster struck. She felt her husband tense against her before she heard the pounding of hooves and shouting voices. Her husband pushed her from his side and reached forward to find the pistol concealed beneath the seat.  
  
The Duchess crouched lower in the seat, trying to will herself to be small and out of sight. She cursed herself silently for wearing a white dress that must show up so clearly in the darkness, like a beacon to their attackers.  
  
As she tried to get her eyes to adjust to the dim light, a musket was fired. The driver toppled from his perch on the front of the carriage and the horses' pace became disorderly. The Duke pushed her down from the seat to hide her. Then he took cover behind the front carriage seat and took aim with the pistol. The shot rang out loud, the cloud of smoke quickly wafting away in a light breeze. A horse squealed in pain and somebody swore.  
  
A second musket shot rang out, striking the place where she had been sitting a minute before. The fabric was ripped and mutilated in a long, ugly gouge. A third musket shot exploded the lantern that swung from the rear of the carriage. The sound of strange hooves came closer. The Duke raised his head, looking to both the left and the right of the carriage. Then he turned to look to the front of the carriage.  
  
He threw aside the useless pistol. He knew that even if he had the spare powder and bullet to hand, he would not be able to load it again in time. Instead he reached for his sword. He had always carried it as a sign of his rank though he had never used it. He drew it from his scabbard and spared a glance for his wife. Then he turned and stood. In a single movement, he had lunged out of the carriage with the sword in the direction of the attacking horses. A squeal from a horse and the gurgling, rasping croak of a man testified to his success.  
  
The next moment, another musket shot rang out. The Duke's body went limp, sagging against the edge of the carriage. His hand swung drunkenly back into the carriage, dropping the bloodied sword at her feet. He turned briefly, his eyes meeting hers.  
  
She started forward, reaching out to him but his eyes rolled back into his head and his unconscious body tipped over the edge of the carriage and was gone. There was an instant rumble of voices and a general cheer of triumph. The Duchess stared at the place where her husband had been. Only a bloody smear marked it now.  
  
She closed her eyes, pressing herself against the side of the carriage. She could feel tears running down her face though she could not tell when she had begun to cry. Then she heard the thud as somebody landed on the carriage.  
"Whoa, there," said a gruff voice.  
The horses began to slow and then stopped.  
"Fine horses they have here," came the gruff voice again.  
  
"Forget the horses," cackled a new voice. "Let's see what they've got in the carriage."  
Several silhouetted heads appeared over the side of the carriage. A man scrambled up the side, not bothering with the carriage door, and stood on the seat. It was then that he spotted the Duchess huddled on the carriage floor.  
"Well, well, well, what have we here?" he asked.  
Even in the darkness, she could tell that he was leering at her.  
"No wonder the bastard fought so hard," he added, chuckling to himself. "A lady worth fighting for here, lads."  
  
The man looked back to his comrades, who joined in the laughter. That was why he didn't notice when she took up her husband's sword and lunged upwards. The only thought that filled her head was that her husband was gone and this man had killed him. The sword stabbed into the man's chest, grinding against bone and squirting bloods everywhere.  
  
There was another musket shot and the Duchess gasped in pain. She fell down to the floor of the carriage again, the sword falling down with her.  
"Holy mother of God!" shouted the gruff voice. "There was no need to shoot a lady!"  
"She killed Harold," argued one of the other voices. "She bloody well deserved it."  
"It was his own stupid fault, any way...," said the gruff voice, unappeased.  
  
The Duchess found it difficult to listen, the voices slowly fading away and the pain in her side flaring and swelling until she was aware of nothing else. She heard the men moving about on the carriage and forced herself to open her eyes one last time.  
  
Above her, the branches swayed and rustled and a large bird perched high above. It gazed down at her, puzzled at the strange scene of murder and mayhem. It was the last thing the Duchess saw before she stopped breathing.

TO BE CONTINUED


	2. A Rude Awakening

THE DUCHESS AND HER NEW LIFE (part two)  
  
Rating: PG-13 for violence and language Summary: Robbers murder a Duchess and her husband. Hours later, the Duchess reawakens and comes back to life but what could cause such a thing?  
Disclaimer: The Doctor Who universe belongs to the BBC and the various people who created it. I don't make any profit from using it. The Duchess and Edwald are my own creations.

* * *

It was just after dawn when she next awoke. At first, she couldn't remember what had happened. She could smell earth and feel the soil beneath her outstretched hands. She was cold and uncomfortable. Her rings were gone from her fingers and her necklace was gone as well. There was a great deal of movement beside her; she could feel it through the ground.  
  
Then she remembered what had happened. Her eyes snapped open and she tried to focus. There were trees around so she must still be in the forest. A load of soil seemed to come sailing out of the ground itself. When the second load came flying up, she realised that there was a hole in front of her. A few yards away from the hole were two mounds of disturbed earth, each with a cross set at the end. The large bird that she had seen earlier was perched on the cross, preening its feathers. She could now see that it was a falcon - magnificent and unhurried.  
  
A head appeared out of the new hole and a shovel was thrown up beside her.  
"Well, m'lady," said the gruff voice. "Let's get you settled."  
A man worked his way out of the hole and stood up, brushing the soil from his clothes. He was about thirty-five by the looks of him, though his face was streaked with dirt and he was slightly thinner than was healthy. His clothes were mismatched - a patched pair of brown trousers that was wearing thin, a fine blue shirt that had belonged to her husband and a sturdy leather jacket that was padded on the forearms and shoulders. A broad fisherman's hat was pulled low over his face.  
  
He slipped the hat off his head respectfully and turned to look at her. She looked back at him, blinking but otherwise unmoving. He took a second to register then he jumped back in alarm. His mouth opened as if to shout but no sound came out. He dropped his hat to the ground, hurrying backwards until he tripped over and fell into the hole he'd just dug. The falcon looked up from cleaning its feathers and cocked its head on the side curiously.  
  
The Duchess stared at the hole for a moment but the man did not reappear. She sat up gingerly, surprised to feel no pain. She placed a hand to her side. There was a rip in her gown but the skin beneath it was smooth and intact. Looking down, she could see that the fine white fabric was stained crimson all over. She remembered that some of it had been from the man she had killed but some of it must have been hers. How long ago had she been wounded, that not a scar still existed?  
  
She felt her head and her hair. Her hair was far longer than she remembered but it was different in unexpected ways too. It felt full of curls in a way that it had never been before. When she pulled a strand in front of her face, the hair was jet black when she knew that her hair had been fair from the day she was born. Bewildered, she crawled to the edge of the hole and looked down.  
  
The man was huddled at the bottom of the hole, whimpering and continually crossing himself.  
"Hello," she said, because there didn't seem much else to say. "Would you tell me what's going on?"  
The man stopped whimpering and raised his head to look at her. His eyes were clear blue, tinged with fear but also with a weary regret.  
"I'm sorry, m'lady," he stuttered, the words coming out in a confusing rush. "We did not mean it. At least, we did mean it but we did not mean the deaths to happen and I know it matters not to you whether we meant it or whether we did not, but I wish you to know that I am sorry from the depths of my soul..."  
"Slow down," she sighed, running a hand through her changed hair. "I am confused. I know not where I am or what is happening. First things first. Who are you?"  
  
The man climbed to his feet and bowed awkwardly in the narrow hole.  
"Edwald, m'lady," said the man wretchedly, not meeting her eyes.  
"Where am I, Edwald?" she asked gently.  
"In the woods, m'lady."  
"Why am I in the woods, Edwald?"  
Edwald took an unhappy breath, "Because we ambushed your carriage my lady. We were after riches and you and your husband were killed. I am sorry, m'lady."  
"I am not dead, Edwald," sighed the Duchess, her throat closing at the reminder of her husband's death.  
  
"Not now, m'lady," shrugged Edwald. "But upon my oath, you were dead before. It is a miracle, m'lady. A sign from God that it was not your time yet... I can do no more than beg for your forgiveness, m'lady."  
Edwald fell to his knees in the hole, head bowed beneath her. The Duchess looked around her.  
  
"Very well, Edwald, I am the Duchess of..." she paused mid-sentence.  
Her title was not hereditary but one of marriage. It came from her husband and his estate. She was sure that now her husband's brother, who never had liked her, would take over the Duke's possessions with or without her consent. She could no longer claim the estate in her title. Neither did her first name seem appropriate since it had been nearly seven years since any had called her by it. She had changed greatly and was no longer the naive daughter of a merchant.  
"I am the Duchess," she said firmly. "And I will grant you my forgiveness, Edwald but you will have to earn it."  
Edwald turned his face towards hers, hopefully, "Anything, your Grace. Tell me what I must do."  
"Take me back to my late husband's estate, Edwald."  
  
Edwald went into the woods and returned with two horses - one she recognised as one of the mares that had been pulling her own carriage. The other was an older, gaunt-looking stallion that obviously belonged to Edwald. Edwald pulled a long coat from the saddlebags and wrapped it around her shoulders. As he did so, he slipped her stolen necklace back around her neck. She chose not to comment on either the necklace's theft or its return.  
  
He helped her mount the old stallion and he took the mare for himself. At first, it puzzled her until she saw the mare's jittery movements. The mare soon settled under Edwald's gentle coaxing and the two of them set out to join the main road.  
  
The reason for the padding on Edwald's jacket became clear when the falcon took off from the cross and landed on Edwald's outstretched arm. The falcon's claws dug deep into the leather but his skin was protected.  
"This is Sherlock, your Grace," said Edwald, half-apologetically.  
The Duchess studied the bird intently, and he studied her back.  
"A fine bird," she decided.  
The falcon seemed to take the praise well and puffed out its chest proudly.  
  
"I have not seen you before, Edwald. You are not from around here?" she prompted.  
"No, your Grace. I come from the south of England, originally," said Edwald reluctantly. "But I am a traveller these days and I call no place home."  
"Indeed," said the Duchess. "What of your companions?"  
"My companions...," began Edwald, he broke off looking miserable. "My brother is among them but I met the others in a tavern around these parts, your Grace."  
"So, you came up here and fell in with the first lot of villainous dogs you saw then?" she asked sharply.  
Edwald flinched guiltily, "Yes, your Grace."  
Sherlock looked at her reproachfully.  
  
The Duchess could feel the anger rising in her and was not disposed to feel kindly towards Edwald at this moment. Nor was she tempted to feel contrite under the falcon's disapproval.  
"Was it worth it?" she continued.  
"Was what worth it, your Grace?" asked Edwald miserably.  
"Our lives. Did you get enough riches to satisfy your greed or must more innocent people die?"  
Edwald made a choking sound, his fingers twisting the reins into knots.  
  
"We did not expect the deaths, your Grace," he gasped, the words barely audible. "The others have moved on to the next county. I had planned on joining them but not until I had done you a decent burial."  
Only Edwald's undisguised misery held her tongue in check. The urge to rail and rage against him was strong but she was a lady, even if only by marriage, and she would behave like one. She cast about for a less accusatory topic.  
  
"So, what happened to my hair, Edwald?" she asked, fingering the dark curls.  
"Your hair, your Grace?" asked Edwald, looking up in bewilderment.  
"Yes, my hair," she repeated calmly.  
Edwald blinked at her and looked at the hair. He blinked again and shrugged.  
"What do you mean, your Grace?" he asked.  
"Why is my hair different?"  
"Maybe for the same reason that the rest of you is different?"  
  
She frowned at him, "The rest of me?"  
"Yes, your Grace," said Edwald. "Your entire face is different than before, not just your hair. At first, when I saw you lying there, I thought you were a different woman. Then I realised that you wore the same clothes, that you were the same soul brought back in a different body..."  
"My face?" she asked hesitantly, raising a hand to her cheekbones.  
It was difficult to tell by touch alone but the mole that had rested on the side of her left cheek was gone. It also seemed that her nose was larger and longer than she remembered.  
  
"Do you have a mirror with you, Edwald?" she asked.  
Her tone suggested that she didn't hold out much hope but Edwald surprised her. He reached into his saddlebags, disturbing Sherlock from his perch. The Falcon settled himself on Edwald's padded shoulder instead.  
  
The 'mirror' he handed her was not more than a large, broken shard of another larger mirror but it worked just as well.  
"Be careful of the edge, your Grace. You may cut yourself," warned Edwald.  
Holding the broken shard gingerly, she studied her reflection. The face that stared back at her was a stranger's. She halted the stallion and looked around her, as if the answer would simply jump out at her. She looked back at the shard.  
  
"Your Grace?" asked Edwald, tentatively.  
He turned the mare around and walked back to join her. She did not answer him.  
"Your Grace?" he repeated. "Did you not know?"  
She shook her head wordlessly. She kept looking but the shard would show her nothing but this stranger's face. She flung the shard away from her, hearing it land amongst the leaves. Edwald watched her silently as she fought to compose herself. He dismounted, retrieved the shard and then mounted his horse again.  
  
"We had best be going, your Grace, if you want to reach your late husband's estate by dark," said Edwald gently.  
He reached out and took the reins from her fingers. Leading her horse behind his, Edwald guided them on their way down the road. It was several minutes before the Duchess had recovered enough to speak.  
  
"What am I?" she asked. "Some creature of the Devil?"  
"I would not think so, your Grace, though I am certainly not learned in such things," said Edwald simply. "It seems to me that God decided that your life was too short and so He gave you another."  
The Duchess cocked her head to the side, considering this.  
"This would make more sense than anything other that I have...," began the Duchess.  
  
Some old memory had occurred to her, something she had not thought about in years. She thought about her mother, an unusually learned and educated woman for a merchant's widow. It was at her mother's insistence that she had been educated and could read long before she met her future husband.  
  
Sadly, her mother's mind had begun to wander towards the end of her life - a sad fate for a woman who had embraced life so thoroughly. Mother and daughter had exchanged letters for years. It was difficult to detect but the beginnings of illness, the little signs of absent-mindedness began to build up until some of her final letters were pure fantasy. After her mother's death, a letter that had been hidden away was revealed. Although it had been written long before her mother's mind had started to go, the letter was full of an impossible tale.  
  
At the time, the Duchess had sadly dismissed it as a fantasy conjured by a slowly fading mind. There had been other things in the letter, things she had dismissed as unworthy of note and ignored. She could not remember the words exactly now but her mother had written of a people who lived more than once. Of death and a new life with a new body. Such things no longer seemed as amusing as they once did.  
  
"Your Grace?" asked Edwald worriedly.  
She looked up to see Edwald watching her anxiously, with Sherlock echoing his expression from Edwald's shoulder.  
"I am well, Edwald," she reassured him. "I think I may have some of the answer to the riddle but I need to find a letter that my mother wrote for me, many years ago."  
"Where is it?" asked Edwald, not looking at all reassured.  
"It will be at my late husband's estate."  
  
Edwald nodded, "That is good, your Grace. We will be there shortly."  
The Duchess nodded and then frowned, "But I am changed, Edwald. How shall my own servants recognise me?"  
Edwald released her reins for a moment to scratch his head beneath his hat.  
"Perhaps I could go and fetch one of them and get them to come to you, your Grace," suggested Edwald. "Would any of them believe you?"  
The Duchess frowned, considering each of the staff in turn.  
  
"Ask for the kitchen-girl, Bessie," suggested the Duchess. "She can be convinced. Then she might fetch the things I need - if my brother-in-law has not already claimed possession of everything."  
"Less than a day has passed," said Edwald. "It is likely that they have not yet heard of your deaths. There were no survivors, your Grace."  
"No, not even me," she agreed wryly.  
  
TO BE CONTINUED 


	3. Old Connections

THE DUCHESS AND HER NEW LIFE (part three)  
  
Rating: PG-13 for violence and language Summary: Robbers murder a Duchess and her husband. Hours later, the Duchess reawakens and comes back to life but what could cause such a thing?  
Disclaimer: The Doctor Who universe belongs to the BBC and the various people who created it. I don't make any profit from using it. The Duchess and Edwald are my own creations.

* * *

It was late morning when Edwald approached a large, sprawling estate by himself. It took him several minutes to reach the front doors of the stately manor. He dismounted, tied the mare to the hitching rail and knocked on the large doors. The door was opened so abruptly that Edwald guessed that somebody must have already been waiting on the other side of it.  
  
The prim looking woman who answered the door looked him up and down dismissively. The heavy metal keys the woman carried identified her as the housekeeper. Edwald hurriedly took off his hat and made sure that his jacket hid the stolen shirt he was wearing.  
"Excuse me, ma'am," he said nervously. "May I speak with the kitchen maid, Bessie?"  
The housekeeper sniffed, "You may use the servants' entrance around there."  
"Thankyou ma'am," nodded Edwald.  
The housekeeper looked at him again, as if she were about to send him away but at last she shrugged irritably and waved towards the side of the house. She shut the door in his face.  
  
Edwald turned and made his way around the corner of the house to the servants' entrance. He rapped on the door. This time there was a pause before an elderly man answered the door.  
"Yes?" he asked, puzzled to see Edwald there.  
"I was wondering, if I might speak with your kitchen maid, Bessie?" asked Edwald, twisting his hat in his hands.  
"You stay here, lad," said the old man. "I'll go get her for you. What did you say your name was?"  
"Edwald," he answered. "But she won't know me."  
"Hmm," said the old man suspiciously. "You just wait here."  
  
The old man disappeared into the house, taking care to shut the door behind him. Edwald stood there patiently for several minutes, wishing he had brought Sherlock with him. The bird was better company than most people.  
  
A young woman answered the door, wiping flour from her skirts.  
"Bessie?" he asked hopefully.  
"Yes, what did you want?" she asked directly. "Who are you?"  
"My name is Edwald. I bring a message from your mistress, the Duchess," he explained.  
"Why give the message to me? Why not to the housekeeper?"  
  
Edwald paused, "Its difficult to explain. Come with me and the Duchess can explain it herself."  
"Where is she?" asked the girl.  
"Not far," promised Edwald. "It is urgent that you come with me, please."  
The girl folded her arms and looked down her nose at him, "Why should I trust you?"  
Edwald held out the Duchess' necklace. The girl took it and studied it closely before nodding.  
  
"Very well," she agreed grudgingly.  
Edwald smiled, "Good. I have a horse around the front."  
She followed him out of the house to where the mare was tethered. She raised an eyebrow.  
"That is one of the Duke's horses," she said suspiciously. "It drew the carriage when the Duke and the Duchess left yesterday."  
"I know," agreed Edwald, trying not to look too guilty.  
  
He helped her mount and then settled himself into the saddle behind her. The mare set off in a quick canter back down to the main road. In less than a minute they reached the secluded spot by the side of the road where the Duchess waited beneath the shade of a tree. As they drew closer, the Duchess stood up to greet them.  
  
Edwald halted the mare at the edge of the road, dismounted and then helped the girl down. Ignoring Edwald, the girl marched straight up to the Duchess.  
"Who are you?" she demanded.  
The Duchess met the girl's challenge firmly, "You know who I am, Katherine."  
"Katherine?" asked Edwald, puzzled.  
  
"This is not, in fact, Bessie the kitchen maid, it is Miss Katherine my niece," explained the Duchess. "Who always did have a fondness for pretending to be things she is not."  
The girl, Katherine, raised an eyebrow, "The housekeeper was suspicious of this Edwald - if that is his real name. I decided to come as Bessie, to find out what you were about. I was right to come. You are not the Duchess. I do not know you."  
"Yes, you do, Katherine," the Duchess corrected her gently. "May I have my necklace back now?"  
"Its not your's," said Katherine stubbornly.  
"It is."  
  
Katherine crossed her arms defiantly. The Duchess sighed.  
"Much has happened during the night, Katherine. There has been both a great tragedy and a great miracle," she explained.  
"A tragedy in which her Grace's necklace was stolen," snorted Katherine.  
"Yes," said the Duchess. "Thieves and villains attacked the carriage as it returned. The driver, his Grace and his wife were murdered and their bodies robbed. But then a miracle happened. I do not quite know why or how. The Duchess returned to life and here I stand."  
"You do not look like her Grace," said Katherine, unconvinced.  
"No. I do not know why," said the Duchess. "Ask me any question you wish that only the Duchess would know the answer to. I tell you, I will answer them all correctly."  
  
"This is ridiculous," said Katherine, turning away.  
"So you said when the Duke announced his intentions to marry the daughter of a merchant," the Duchess called after her.  
Katherine froze in the act of walking away. She looked to Edwald, who stood off to the side with the horses and Sherlock.  
"Many people know what I thought of the Duchess before I knew her properly," objected Katherine but less strongly than before.  
"But do many people know that it was her Grace who comforted you when Kenneth died?" added the Duchess.  
  
Katherine turned to face the Duchess.  
"It was not a death that merited any attention," Katherine said sharply.  
"Not to anybody else, no," agreed the Duchess. "He was only an old hunting dog, half-blind and deaf and of no use to anybody. But he was close to your heart. You had a right to grieve for him."  
"So the Duchess said to me," said Katherine, troubled and searching the Duchess' face. "I have long remembered that night as the first time I knew my aunt had a kind soul."  
  
"My face may be different, dear Katherine," said the Duchess tenderly. "But I am the same soul, come to ask for your help."  
Katherine looked as if she were about to answer but instead she ran the short few steps to the Duchess and embraced her. The Duchess wound her arms around Katherine, struggling to maintain composure in front of Edwald. Edwald respectfully turned his back and began to stroke Sherlock absent-mindedly.  
  
When Katherine could speak again, she drew back and looked at the Duchess' new face.  
"I like your new hair," she offered.  
The Duchess laughed and Katherine joined in.  
"Is it true that my uncle, the Duke, is dead?" she asked.  
Not trusting herself to speak, the Duchess could only nod.  
  
"He died heroically, Miss," offered Edwald from where he stood with the horses. "He tried to fend off his attackers. He killed two."  
Katherine nodded, tears building, "I would not expect anything less from him." "I need your help, Katherine," said the Duchess. "You father will come and take over the estate, as soon as he knows your uncle is dead. He will not care if I am alive or dead. You must go to the estate and get me some of my things. Then you can say that you heard a tale from Edwald here and send a party to discover your uncle's grave."  
Katherine nodded again, "Whatever you need. Anything at all."  
  
TO BE CONTINUED 


	4. New Connections

THE DUCHESS AND HER NEW LIFE (part four)  
  
Rating: PG-13 for violence and language Summary: Robbers murder a Duchess and her husband. Hours later, the Duchess reawakens and comes back to life but what could cause such a thing?  
Disclaimer: The Doctor Who universe belongs to the BBC and the various people who created it. I don't make any profit from using it. The Duchess and Edwald are my own creations.

* * *

Katherine returned an hour later with several bags. She'd brought clothing, money and a red leather bag with papers from the Duchess' rooms. Sadly, the Duchess had decided to leave her book collections behind. If too much disappeared, then a thief would be suspected. The Duchess read the last letter from her mother again and decided that she knew where they were to go.  
  
Edwald helped arrange the belongings on the two horses while the Duchess and Katherine said their final goodbyes.  
"Farewell," said Katherine, tears brimming again. "I shall never forget you."  
"Farewell, my favourite niece," smiled the Duchess, hugging her again.  
Katherine spoke, her voice muffled against the Duchess' chest, "Being the favourite niece is hardly an impressive distinction when I am your only niece."  
The Duchess clucked her tongue in mock disapproval, "Take compliments in the spirit they are given."  
  
"Oh, I nearly forgot," said Katherine sheepishly, holding out the Duchess' necklace.  
The Duchess took it gratefully. It was a strange necklace and she had never seen another like it. It was a flat square of polished silver hung on a silver chain. It caught the light beautifully and sparkled as well as any jewel but it was unusual nevertheless.  
  
The Duchess touched Katherine's cheek once more in farewell and then joined Edwald by the horses. Edwald disturbed Sherlock from the stallion's saddle and helped the Duchess to mount. Edwald mounted the mare, Sherlock settled on his shoulder again and they set off down the road. Katherine waved and watched them until they were out of sight around the corner. Then she hiked up her skirts and ran back to the manor to spread the tragic news that both the Duke and the Duchess had been killed.  
  
The Duchess led the way to the coast, never giving a precise answer when Edwald asked about their destination. Instead she clung tightly to the red leather bag. Whenever they stopped for the night, whether at an inn or in the woods, she kept the bag by her side.  
  
"Where are we going, your Grace?" asked Edwald one night, when neither of them could sleep by their campfire.  
"We are chasing down a fantasy and a fairytale, Edwald," answered the Duchess, looking up from the letters in her lap. She offered one of the letters to him but he blushed and did not take it.  
"Forgive me, your Grace but I do not read well," he stammered.  
  
The Duchess looked surprised and took the letter back.  
"I did not know that Edwald," she said, neither apologetic nor disapproving. "The letter was written by my mother, to be handed down to me after her death. In it she tells a story about a love for a man who was not of this world. My mother writes that she married him and spent years in strange lands with fantastical creatures. However, her husband's people would tolerate her but they never accepted her. She grew more and more unhappy until she returned alone to England. At least, she thought she was alone."  
  
"She was not alone, your Grace?" asked Edwald.  
"No, Edwald. She was with child - a daughter," said the Duchess, indicating herself. "She writes that she left a son with her husband, so that he would be raised by his father's people. To leave behind her own son nearly killed her, so when she realised that she was blessed with a second child, she could not make the same decision again. She decided to keep that child."  
"Is that where we are going, your Grace?" asked Edwald. "To find your father and your brother?"  
The Duchess shrugged, "I do not know that I will be any happier knowing them than my mother was. But I do need some answers."  
The Duchess turned away, pulling her blanket close around her to forestall any more questions. Edwald's words died on his lips and he dreamed of a sobbing mother and a brother who looked suspiciously like his own.  
  
The next morning, they entered the next county and the Duchess' confidence seemed to wane. Every time their road came to a fork, she would pull out her mother's letter and consult it with a great deal of concentration. Several times they started down a road only to backtrack later. The closer they got to the coast, the more nervous the Duchess became.  
  
"Where are we going, your Grace?" asked Edwald, for the fifth time, as they approached a harbour town.  
"Not there," said the Duchess firmly, turning off the road and into the woods. They rode the horses through the woods and up to a hill. When they reached a rock outcrop, the Duchess dismounted.  
"If I've followed my mother's directions correctly," said the Duchess. "It should be near here."  
"What should be here, your Grace?" asked Edwald, believing that the simplest questions were always the best.  
"My answers, Edwald," shrugged the Duchess. "What else?"  
  
She tied the stallion to a tree and began to climb over the rocks. Edwald tied the mare up and followed her. He tried not to look when the Duchess' skirts snagged or blew in an unfortunate direction. In truth, the Duchess was probably so preoccupied that she would not have noticed if he had been less than a gentleman.  
  
She reached a crevice and began to work her way down into the darkness. "Your Grace," called Edwald. "Are you sure this is wise?"  
"I can no longer tell if it is or if it is not. But I am going, make no mistake about that," came the Duchess' answer.  
  
Sighing, Edwald wormed his way down into the crevice. The rock walls were smooth but on an angle so that there was a surface to push against. The further down Edwald went, the closer the two walls became. He was just beginning to worry about becoming stuck when his feet touched level ground.  
  
There was very little light but he could see that the crevice had opened into a small underground cavern. At first, the cavern seemed empty and dusty. Then his eyes adjusted to the light and he could make out the Duchess on the other side of the cavern. He walked towards her, trying to see what had caught her attention. Set against the wall of the cavern was a giant trunk of wood. Following the Duchess' gaze, he looked up to the top of the trunk.  
  
The top half of the wood was carved into the flowing features of a woman's head and torso. Her hair was streaming out behind her in an unreal breeze until it encircled the wooden trunk behind her. Flowers and seashells were plaited in amongst the mass of hair. The giant face was about two feet wide and it looked down at them with a gentle yet triumphant smile. It was high enough that the head very nearly brushed the ceiling of the cavern. Her hands were flung out behind her, the outstretched fingers playing in the same ethereal wind that drew out the hair. The carving's waist disappeared in a weaving of grooves into the solid trunk.  
  
"It's like the figurehead of a great ship," said Edwald. "Its magnificent, your Grace."  
While the trunk itself stretched all the way to the ground in front of Edwald, its surface was smooth. The carving was higher up the trunk and he had to stretch onto his toes to be able to reach even the lowest edge of the artwork.  
  
"It is magnificent from the outside, isn't it," agreed the Duchess, looking up at the wooden woman in wonder.  
Edwald paused, "The outside, your Grace?"  
The Duchess turned and looked at him in the darkness. He thought she was smiling at him.  
  
She took a step towards the bare trunk in front of her, feeling it with her fingers. She found a small groove with her fingers and smiled in satisfaction. She took the necklace from around her neck and slid the flat sheet of metal into the groove.  
  
Cracks suddenly appeared across the wooden trunk and Edwald jumped back. He was about to entreat the Duchess to flee when he realised that the cracks were not random. They were long, clear cracks that formed an upright rectangle taller than Edwald's head but not quite reaching up to disturb the wooden woman. It was a door.  
  
The Duchess pushed and the door swung inwards, leading into the statue and the rock face. She paused on the threshold and looked back at Edwald.  
"You do not have to come in, Edwald," she told him. "I have found what my mother sent me to seek."  
"I could not in good conscience let you go in alone, your Grace," objected Edwald.  
"You have been my sole companion for this journey, Edwald. You wanted my forgiveness? You have it," said the Duchess, eyes twinkling. "I believe I have another journey to take and I cannot tell how long it shall be."  
  
Edwald considered her for a moment. He thought about his brother, probably in jail or dead by now. He thought about the life he had once led, as a proud servant of a Lord in southern England. There was a joy and contentment that came from being needed, from being useful and from being indispensable to people you respected.  
  
"I know you have released me from my obligation, your Grace," said Edwald. "But if you do not know how long this journey will take, then you will need somebody to watch out for you. If nothing else, you will need the company that only another person can bring. Please do not send me away."  
  
"If you come with me, Edwald," she said cautiously. "I cannot guarantee your safety or what we might encounter."  
"No, your Grace," agreed Edwald. "But I can guarantee to serve you faithfully for as long as you have need of me."  
Sherlock flexed his wings in apparent agreement. The Duchess opened her mouth but could not think of another way to dissuade them.  
"Very well," she said. "I shall be glad of the company."  
She walked through the doorway into the statue with Edwald and Sherlock behind her. Her old life was over but it seemed that she had another one to handle yet.  
  
THE END 


End file.
